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A few months after I started writing for the Journal Times, then-editor Tom White sent me a note asking me, and several other local columnists to write a piece about what we liked about Racine.  It was part of a section the paper was running.  The thoughts here are still true.
 

    I grew up in Chicago and had heard of Wisconsin.  Milwaukee was familiar to any Cub fan because that's where Hank Aaron and the Braves played.  Holy Hill was familiar to most Catholic children mainly because our parents dragged us along when they made a pilgrimage there.
    Occasionally, some parents of friends owned a cottage in Wisconsin and invited us along for a weekend of swimming or fishing.  We never really knew where these cottages were except that they were in Wisconsin.
    I had never heard of Racine, though, until a friend invited me to visit a small college in 1970.  My life hasn't been the same since.
    Dominican College nestled on the lakefront.  Even on a cold December evening, the cliff side scenery was enough to grab my attention.  Back then, I was the typical college student, aimless, unsure and cocksure at the same time, and anything that held my attention for more than a few weeks must have been worthwhile.
    On that visit, I stayed in a dorm room of what was called Johnson Hall.  I was sitting on the floor, and a young woman walked in.  She said, "Get the heck out of my room! And, no, you can't bum any cigarettes."
    I looked at her and said to myself, "I'm going to marry this woman some day."  I knew right then and there that love at first sight did indeed exist.
    So, I came to Racine knowing only two streets - Four Mile Road and Erie.  I came knowing only two landmarks - the Edge of Town Tavern and Ferraro's Pizza.  I came to finish college and to woo a wife.  Fortunately, I succeeded in both.
    Years later, I can now wonder why I ever left Chicago.  My family and friends were there.  Everything I knew was there.  My wife had traveled around the world.  We could have settled anywhere.  But, something told us that Racine was the place we needed to be.  It was chance and circumstance that brought us to Racine, but it was choice that kept us here.
    Racine doesn't offer the amenities and diversity of a big city.  It offers something more.
    In the summer I can rise early enough to beat the fishermen and the sun to Shoop Park for a quick nine holes of golf.  When the air is just right, I can see my imprints in the dewy grass.  It makes me feel as if I am some adventurer treading where no one has before.  The sight of the sun rising, seeming to pop out of Lake Michigan, its rays spreading to tough the second green, is like no other sunrise I've ever seen.
    The municipal band and symphony don't have big name stars or conductors.  But, each of them has a musician who has instilled a love of music and flute in my daughter.
    Big cities have organized sports, and Racine does, too.  But, my son still loves a pickup game at the playground more.
    I have neighbors who watch the house and pick up the mail when I'm out of town.  All they ask in return is that I do the same for them.  In a way, Racine is a big city and a small town together. Diverse and complex.  Yet simple and unpretentious.
    People here for the most part work hard and care for their children and their city.  For the most part, they try to do right.
    The room where I met my wife is now part of an office building.  The chapel where we married in Dominican College is now the library for Olympia Brown School.  The cliffs I walked along in 1970 have eroded some.  A lot of things have changed.  I have, too.
    For the longest time, whenever people asked me where I was from, I never hesitated in saying, "Chicago."  Now, I am glad, and proud, to say, "I'm from Racine."